


Quitting is Easy

by Exclarative



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-23 00:32:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/919877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Exclarative/pseuds/Exclarative
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos doesn't smoke --anymore. But Cecil does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quitting is Easy

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize, this is a little unfocused and extremely unedited.

Carlos came, fingers nearly tearing holes in the sheets, into Cecil’s mouth. He came hard, shaking and panting, and felt the man between his legs begin to shudder as he, too, orgasmed. It seemed that Cecil never came until he was sure that Carlos had -- _so eager to please _, Carlos thought to himself, and smiled. The radio announcer slithered up out from under the blankets, and lay next to the scientist, resting on his stomach, his quicksilver eyes fixed on the face of the man he’d just expertly sucked off.__

“Oh, Carlos, you are beautiful in the afterglow. You’re beautiful all the time, of course, but I think I prefer you this way.” Cecil purred, propping himself up on his elbows and clicking the bedside lamp on. The muscles of the radio personality’s shoulders glistened with sweat in the 40-watt light; “Do you mind if I light up?” He asked, gesturing at a pack of Red Apple cigarettes on the bedside table.

Still hazy-headed, Carlos shook his head before fully comprehending the question. Before he’d caught his breath and voiced a protest, however, Cecil had already flicked the lighter and was inhaling on a cigarette.

He had been so lost in his work for the past few months, so absorbed in notes about impossible buildings and seismic shifts that he had finally --FINALLY-- kicked his long-standing cigarette habit. He was proud of that, too, though it had been less of a triumph of willpower and more of a side effect of being so completely immersed in his professional life’s most fascinating work. But still, he was proud that he had quit smoking for the first time since he was a (very briefly) rebellious teenager. Carlos, unfortunately, did not resist temptation well, and he silently accepted that he’d be buying a pack tomorrow morning and starting all over again.

Cecil had rolled over, and was now draped across the bed, exposed to the hipbones and running a hand absently through his black hair that glinted in the light, not unlike the iridescent beetles that had graced terrariums in Carlos’ room as a child. Cecil’s full, often-pouting lips closed around the cigarette, and the ember glowed bright as he inhaled, closing his eyes with satisfaction. He let his hand fall to his side, and exhaled. The smoke rose into the room and Carlos breathed in the smell of the fresh smoke, mingling with the already present scents of sex and musk and Cecil. Carlos’ mouth watered, wanting nothing more than to light up for himself. It had been so long, and willpower was nothing in comparison to the chemical rush of nicotine. He wanted a smoke, but he found that he wanted to keep watching Cecil’s mouth even more.

When he took another drag, Carlos leaned closer, and let the smoke from his partner’s lungs envelop his face. The scientist (the addict) let out a low moan of frustration and longing, and Cecil lazily opened his eyes and smiled at the man hovering a mere three inches from his face. He placed the cigarette in the ashtray and placed his hands around Carlos’ neck, pulling him down for a kiss, and Carlos smelled the smoke on his breath and pressed their mouths together, tasting for the first time in years the smoothness of tobacco on another man’s tongue.

It was as if a switch had flipped in his mind. Suddenly, he felt sixteen again, sitting under the high school football stadium bleachers, one hand gripping a bottle of beer and the other resting on the neck of Oliver Sampson, the boy that a (very briefly) rebellious Carlos had been fairly successfully courted by. That night had been his first taste of both beer and cigarettes, and only one had become a lifelong passion. The very memory of that quickie under the bleachers was enough to demolish his refractory period and he felt himself growing hard again.

Cecil pressed their foreheads together, and smiled. This was how Carlos liked him best, unconcerned with sounding intelligent, smiling and aroused, and not even remotely trying to hide that he loved the scientist with an almost unbearable intensity. Cecil tried to break their kiss, but Carlos wasn’t ready to give up that taste, and held his partner’s face to his, probing every bit of Cecil’s mouth with his tongue.

They continued to kiss and rut against each other, and soon their hands found each other’s erect cocks and they began, somehow in unison, to stroke each other. Cecil let loose a low, guttural moan into Carlos’ mouth, and it wasn’t long until he began again to shudder and arch his back and then the cocoa-voiced radio personality was coming apart, biting down on the scientist’s lip and finally collapsing, spent, beneath him. Carlos followed in due time, never once breaking the delicious kiss.

Once again, those grayish eyes were fixed on him, adoring him, and the cigarette was still burning in the ashtray, forgotten but not yet dead. Carlos found that he no longer wanted it.


End file.
